


I'mma need two hands

by Anonymous



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Frottage, M/M, PWP, thigh kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-29 07:01:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16259072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Jonny’s thighs in the locker room, wrapped up nice and tight in his leggings. Jonny’s thighs on game days, threatening to bust out of his suit pants. Jonny’s thighs at team breakfast, on complete display as his athletic shorts ride up.Patrick wants to straddle them – split his legs wide around them and feel the stretch in his hips. He wants to bite them – get his mouth all over them until they’re covered with bruises he made. He wants to fuck them. He wants to grind against them. He wants to fucking fall to his knees and worship them, but he can’t, and it’s not fair.





	I'mma need two hands

Jonny’s thighs aren’t fair.

They’re not fair to whoever the fuck his tailor is, who probably doesn’t even have a measuring tape long enough to accurately measure them. They’re not fair to anyone who has ever taken a hit from Jonny, the way he uses them to power through his checks. They’re not fair to anyone sitting next to him on a plane, probably taking up more than his fair share of room. They’re certainly not fair to Patrick, who has to sit and look at them every goddamned day _without touching_.

Jonny’s thighs in the locker room, wrapped up nice and tight in his leggings.

Jonny’s thighs on game days, threatening to bust out of his suit pants.

Jonny’s thighs at team breakfast, on complete display as his athletic shorts ride up.

Patrick wants to straddle them – split his legs wide around them and feel the stretch in his hips. He wants to bite them – get his mouth all over them until they’re covered with bruises he made. He wants to fuck them. He wants to grind against them. He wants to fucking fall to his knees and _worship_ them, but he can’t, and it’s _not fair_.

“Peeks,” Jonny says sternly, making Patrick snap his head up to Jonny’s eyes instead of the obscene spread of his legs where he’s lounging on Patrick’s couch. “You could at least _try_ to listen to me, man,” he laughs.

“Sorry, just ah – ” Patrick coughs to try and clear his throat from where it’s gone tight. “Just spaced out.”

“Always spacing out on me,” Jonny grumbles, faux-mad, and Patrick knows he’s supposed to quip back, but just as he’s about to say something Jonny lets his legs slip just another inch wider, and his shorts pull tight against the meat of his thighs, and Patrick can’t hold back his whimper.

“Uh, you good, Peeks?” Jonny asks, and he sounds concerned but the way he leans forward just serves to make his thighs look even fucking _thicker_ and Patrick thinks at this point it has to be deliberate.

“ _Your thighs, Jonny_ ,” Patrick whines, hands white-knuckling the cushion of the armchair he’s sitting in.

“What about my thighs, Patrick?” Jonny huffs, like he knows this is some sort of joke or prank.

“They’re so fucking hot, Jon.”

There’s a beat of silence where Patrick has to wonder if he actually just said that aloud.

He risks a glance up at Jonny’s face, recognizes the blind terror, and decides that he definitely just said that aloud.

“Is this, uh, are you – I mean is – ” Jonny fumbles.

“This isn’t a joke, but if you want it to be it can be, and we’ll never talk about it again,” Patrick rushes out.

“No, no, I – I, um, I’m. Into it, or whatever,” Jonny chokes out.

“Into it?” Patrick asks.

“Into _you_ ,” Jonny corrects.

It hits Patrick right in the chest, knocking him back into the armchair and taking the breath from his chest. He only takes a moment to sputter, though, because then Jonny is squirming on the couch and Patrick needs to be in his lap _right the fuck now_.

“Let’s make out now,” Patrick says, not wasting time as he gets up from his seat and crosses the living room to settle on top of Jonny.

God, he’s imagined being in this position a million times, and not a single one of those fantasies came close to the real deal. Jonny’s thighs are so fucking thick and strong, Patrick can feel the power of them under him, can feel the slight pull in his hips. He’s getting hard already when Jonny gets a hand in Patrick’s hair and tugs him into a kiss.

Pat’s got a bit of a reputation for being shameless in his hookups, and he’s not going to start getting self-conscious just because it’s Jonny under him. He gets down and dirty quick, hands fisted in Jonny’s shirt and head tilted at just the right angle so he can slip his tongue into Jonny’s mouth. He grinds his hips in little circles, alternatively rubbing his ass over Jonny’s hard on and pushing his own dick against Jonny’s abs.

“Peeks, _fuck_ ,” Jonny gasps out when Patrick moves to kiss down his neck, getting sloppy already as he licks a line from Jonny’s collarbone up to his ear. “Fucking zero to a hundred, huh?”

“Real quick,” Patrick grins, nibbling on Jonny’s earlobe. “Keep up, Toews.” With that, he leans back and tugs his shirt off, rucking Jonny’s shirt up to his armpits until he gets the hint and strips his off, too.

“God, Peeks,” Jonny groans. “How do you want it?”

Pat’s overwhelmed with possibility. He wants it all – he wants to ride Jonny right here, he wants to spread Jonny out on a bed and stretch him nice and slow, he wants to get his mouth on Jonny’s dick, he wants Jonny’s hands on him, he wants, he wants, he _wants_.

In the end, though, his choice isn’t even really a choice. He slides off Jonny’s lap and onto his knees in front of the couch, parting those fucking thighs to get in between them.

“Pants off, Tazer,” Patrick orders, snapping Jonny’s waistband.

“Not just gonna pull my dick out, quick and dirty?” Jonny teases.

“Not trying to get at your dick,” Patrick answers. Jonny quirks an eyebrow at him, more interested than questioning, and raises his hips to slide his shorts and boxers down and off. “ _Fuck yes_ ,” Patrick whispers, mostly to himself, once they’re finally off. He wastes no time, getting straight to work.

“Peeks, what – ” Jonny trails off into a surprised moan when Pat presses a sucking kiss to the inside of Jonny’s knee.

“Sensitive here?” Pat asks, and Jonny sputters through an “I – I’ve never – ” before he’s cut off by another moan when Patrick bites down just a little.

Pat wants to stop and thank whatever higher powers are out there, because Jonny’s thighs being this sensitive is nothing short of a blessing. He couldn’t stop if he tried, though, and he keeps moving inward, inching his way towards Jonny’s dick in licks and kisses and bites that have Jonny’s hands tugging in his hair while moans are punched out of him. It’s everything Pat could have ever asked for and more, because even in his wildest fantasies he’d never imagined that Jonny would go fucking crazy for it like this. He always thought he’d be the one begging for it, but as he lays a sucking kiss just left of Jonny’s groin, he hears a half-whimpered _please_. Patrick almost feels bad when he pulls back and kisses at Jonny’s other knee, but he’s not half-assing this. Jonny’s letting him between his legs, letting him map out every single inch of these thick fucking thighs, and Patrick’s not taking it for granted. Not for one second. He’s using his hands to keep Jonny’s legs spread, absently kneading the thick slabs of muscle, feeling every little jump and twitch when he finds a spot Jonny likes. When Pat finally gets to the inside of this thigh, Jonny’s panting and squirming like he can’t handle it anymore.

“Pat, you can’t – I feel – ” he stutters out, throwing his head back and forth and clenching the hand in Patrick’s hair.

“Fuck, babe, are you gonna come from this?” Patrick asks, mouth still pressed up against Jonny’s thigh. He knows it’s dirty pool, but he bites down just as Jonny opens his mouth to answer.

“I don’t know, I don’t think so – Pat, it’s so – it feels so – just touch me, I’m _there_ ,” Jonny manages to get out through his moans.

Patrick sucks at the bite mark hard as he finally gets his hand on Jonny’s dick, and his own dick twitches at the thought of this hickey tucked between Jonny’s thighs, so Jonny can feel it but no one else can see it. Jonny wasn’t lying, it takes less than a handful of strokes for him to finish – a loud, full-body orgasm that leaves Jonny shaking and Pat dangerously high on his own ego.

He gives Jonny the time it takes him to stand up and strip off his own shorts and boxers, and then he’s climbing back onto the couch, this time straddling one of Jonny’s thighs. Jonny’s sweaty – always gets so fucking red and sweaty, so fucking worked up – so the slide when Pat grinds his dick down is smooth and sweet.

“Baby, I gotta,” Patrick says nonsensically, gripping one hand on the back of Jonny’s neck and bracing the other one on Jonny’s other thigh as he grinds, quick and dirty, tagging Jonny’s thigh with his precum. He can’t stop looking – at the dirty-sweet slide of his dick against Jonny’s thigh, at the way Jonny’s muscles tense and twitch, at the bite marks littering the inside of Jonny’s thighs. It’s intoxicating, and before he knows it his rhythm is faltering and he’s coming, moaning loud and long as he marks Jonny’s thigh up.

Jonny gives him a minute before not-so-gently pushing him to the side of the couch as he ambles towards the kitchen, more of a waddle than a walk.

“So, my thighs are a thing for you,” Jonny states as he runs a washrag under the sink.

Patrick snorts. Understatement of the motherfucking century.

“Yeah, Tazer, they’re a fucking _thing_ for me.”


End file.
